Winter Exists

Winter exists, a mole
upon your beauty -
you, who are slipped upon
by sensuality
are the soul
of a naive poem -

they want you here,
they need you there -
faith handed out
as your unsmiling limbs
attempt to rhyme.

And the world dares
to impede the mole;
obliterate it.

Chime to the time,
when you,
give yourself away to the dance -
let the mole
travel within you.